Battle Cry
by aireborne
Summary: The war has only just begun, but to recently orphaned Alfred, he can't see any future for himself. An then the enemy officer Arthur finds him...


Ash rained down on the boy as his small feet pounded against the packed earth. He followed the trail of smoke in the sky that he could barely make out through his brilliant blue eyes, squinted against the smoke of a nearby building that had been set aflame.

The deafening sound of crashing bombs and screaming men drowned out the sound of his own thoughts, but he preferred it this way. He didn't want to think of the possibilities, of what that smoke trail in the sky, left by a plane he helped paint, could mean.

Finally, he made it to a clearing where the smoke trail ended. The clearing looked as though it had a thin layer of black snow atop its long grass, created by the ash that still continued to fall upon the landscape. There was a twisted metal shape, painted blue to look like the sky, in the center of the clearing that had flames dancing upon it, and smoke twisting up into the heavens. The boy continued to run, not bothering to stop and ponder the twisted beauty created before him by this black snow and rising smoke.

When he reached the plane, he desperately searched for what remained of the cockpit. Inside, just as he knew it would, held the broken body of a man barely clinging to life. The man opened his eyes, and looked up at the small boy above him, and smiled.

"Help me out," the man managed to say before a cough racked his entire body. The boy's eyes filled with tears, but he obeyed.

"It's going to be alright," he said, barely audible to the man. The boy meant it to be comforting for him, but really he said it mostly to himself. He struggled under the weight of the man, who was doing his best to help, but his arms seemed unable to function properly and his legs were pinched under the warped metal. Eventually, the man made it out and the boy attempted to drag his body as far from the burning plane as he could.

By this point the man had stopped moving, but he continued to watch the boy. The boy had dark stains that ran down his face from where his tears had mixed with the ash, and his blonde hair was completely darkened. When the man was far enough from the plane, the boy sat next him and held the blackened hand of the man whose hair was now turning the same darkened color.

They stayed like this for some time, with the larger hand of the man between the boy's two smaller ones, and the man slowly closing his eyes, the last vision he saw was one of a small blonde boy, looking into his eyes, willing him to keep them open.

Long after the man had closed his eyes, the boy sat there, almost as if he was waiting for him to wake up. The ash seemed to be burying him, and it felt almost as if the weight of it on his shoulders was going to crush him, but he remained there, unmoving.

Then, when he realized the man wasn't going to wake up, to open his eyes once more and smile, sobs shook his entire body. He was overcome with such grief, such feeling of loss and hopelessness that he cried and cried and cried until it seemed he could cry no more.

At some point he must've fallen asleep, because he woke to voices in the distance. Dark figures of other men were approaching through the fog, heading towards the boy. He pressed himself against the ground as much as he could, wanting to be left alone. The men continued to approach, and he could make out the details of their enemy uniforms, and it all crashed down upon him.

These were the men responsible for the twisted metal wreck in the field, and the broken body that lay beside him. He became enraged, wanted to scream or run, but he remained, his body curled up beside the man. One of the men, with a slightly different uniform, seemed to notice him. He changed his direction and started heading towards the boy who flung himself protectively across the body of his father.

When the officer came close enough that the boy could see his large eyebrows beneath his helmet, and emerald green eyes staring out across the blackened land, he trembled with rage. He shouted out at the men, told him to go away and leave him alone, and the officer paused, unsure of what to do. The boy continued to scream and cry, and so the officer turned around, and walked back they way he came, leaving the boy alone once more with the body of his father.

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im not sure if im going to continue this story, it all depends on the kind of feedback i get because i have never written a hetalia fic before. so please review!


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